Where I'm At

Sorry guys, it's been awhile.  I figured if you had to come here and see anything for 11 straight days, Ryan Gossling and his Cherrios wouldn't be so terrible.

To put it mildly, it's been a real stressful few weeks and I haven't had the energy to say anything nice - or articulate anything beyond the world of obsessing over my ability or INability to conceive.  I don't want to bore you.  This is Finding Zen, not Finding My Fertility.  This place is typically fun/funny, and I have been neither fun or funny lately.  I have been bitchy, moody, weepy, and down-right gassy.  I have had little time for writing, let alone for lending my attention to anyone but myself and the community of women I have adopted in the last month.  Thank goodness, for my husbands patience and understanding.  He is probably relieved to have kayaking and rain lately. 

I can tell you this.  It does not matter how ready you may ever decide you are, or are not.  I had never really gone beyond considering, that independent of my or Zack's willingness to open ourselves to this place, my body would have its own independent agenda.  I have believed all my life that it just takes one condom breaking...aka, have unprotected sex = voila, make a baby!  I had no idea how many variables went into this equation.  I had no idea about 'annovulatory cycles', or bum ovaries, low progesterone, or short luteal phases.  This is no wham-bam-thank-you-maam.  I thought you either get pregnant, or your husband has shitty sperm. 

I have waited for this moment, almost 30 years, thinking that if we just fire-hosed enough of the goods up in there, we could have a Brady Bunch in no time.  WRONG.  If you happen to be one of those people who got knocked-up from a one-night-stand.  I'm sorry to tell you this, but you must have done SOMETHIN' seriously wrong (or right, depending on how you felt about it) in your previous life. 

The other day I related it to Zack in this way.  And I really believe, not only did it help him feel closer to this process, he could genuinely empathize for the first time.  And I needed that from him.

Imagine a route, or a rapid.  It is the Big Kahuna.  The Grand Pooba.  The greatest feat of your sport.  You have approximately 29 days to train and one day to execute (and sometimes not even that, because a annovulatory month Hurricane will blow through and fuck up your whole perfectly-orchestrated plan).  You have watched all the videos.  You have invested in the best gear.  You have taken notes and consulted the expert forums.  You have practiced - boy have you practiced!  You have checked all the levels, your gauges, waiting for the perfect weather and the perfect conditions.  You have watched others do it.  You have studied their patterns, their behaviors.  You are prepared.  You are READY.  You are confident.  And the day arrives, and you are excited and optimistic, and certain in your ability to DO THIS THING THAT IS SO IMPORTANT TO YOU. 

And you fail.  You are wiped out.  A hold breaks.  Your foot slips.  You can't roll and are forced to swim.  You have fallen.  You have had to bail.  You are bruised.  Defeated.  And worst of all, you have to wait another 29 days to try again.

And he got it.  At least long enough I think, for that moment, to understand just how difficult this is, and why I'm not 1/2 as cool as I was 6 months ago.  So now, before you go on saying all the things you might feel compelled to say to me right now.  Like "its just not your time yet", or "its only been 'x' months", or this is the best one "JUST RELAX, it'll happen as soon as you quit worrying about it."  Before you start throwing statistics at me, and telling me about your sister or friend who miscarried like 8 times.  That I should be grateful I'm not her.  Or that I don't have to give myself injections - yet.  I KNOW.  I've read the stories.  I have googled more shit in the last 11 days than you have in the last year.  I have heard it all.  I walk around with a thermometer strapped to my vagina (might as well), and Zack has to bring me food and water to the office and sponge bathe me every other day so I don't have to leave the computer. I probably have an ulcer.  And the next time my period shows, I might just grind up all my xanex, mix it in with some Calgon Take Me Away, have a cigarette, a mojito, and never get out of the bathtub.  JOKING.

I know this is all relative to a bigger picture I just can't see yet.  I know.  It's just that it doesn't make it any easier.

So.  I have been trying to keep my hatefulness towards all the young cute women with babies...and all the women who are pregnant to a minimum.  The ones next to me on the road, in the grocery store, in Target, at the gas station, at my work - they are everywhere as though they have conspired to exist if only to remind me that my body is hormonally retarded.  But I just have to say this, because it might make me feel good for just one second.

To all the Fertile Myrtles of the world.  You are a rare breed.  You may think its cute, or funny, or ironic - that you just can't seem to NOT GET PREGNANT - ohmygod.  But it's not.  I am happy for you and your 5 children.  I am happy they are all beautiful and healthy.  I am happy that you never had to emotionally and physically LABOR the experience of not getting pregnant that so many have to endure.  But to you...fertile lady.  And please don't take this personally - I'm just hormonal. 

BITE ME. 

And I'm NOT SORRY your breastfeeding nipples hurt.  Unless of course it turns out I am in-fact bitchy AND PREGNANT, in which case...I take it back.  Kind of.

*To all the women out there who are struggling, or who have struggled to make and keep a baby - I admire your incredible strength and courage.  I am inspired daily, by those who have overcome and continue to face month after month, the challenges of fertility.